


And the show goes on

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, the war is the ongoing plot on one of Cybertrons greatest drama shows. You've all seen the main show, now the Director has picked out some of his favourite behind the scenes action to show you all.</p><p>Total AU Crack inspired by a post on a LJ community which I have since forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I make no excuses for this. I have no idea. I really don't.

Maestro shook his helm as he watched two of his actors acting like sparklings. His show was the highest rated on Cybertron's extensive network of programmes and it had won more awards than any other in recent history. And yet his Hero and his Villain were spouting atrocious love poems and dialogue at each other in what should have been the middle of a **very serious** battle scene.

Beside them Prowl was twitching, his sensor panels rattling as he tried to stay in character. Soundwave and Shockwave were nowhere near as successful, the mechs leaning on each other as the only way to remain upright.

“Oh Megatron, thy light brings hope that this war may yet end, if only thee would lay down thy weapons.” Orion Pax said as he dropped to one knee, his hands held up in supplication.

“Nay Prime, I will never surrender to thee and submit myself to the travesty known as Autobot justice.” A fresh wave of laughter rippled around as Megatron drew himself up, chin in the air, looking down his nasal plating like a member of the high nobility.

“Do thee not see, you doom all who would follow thee. You will drag them all down to the Pit as you fall. I, Optimus Prime can save you if you will only let me.”

“I'd let you save _me_.” Swindle interjected from the pile of mechs that had been grappling on one side of the battlefield.

“You couldn't afford to let him save you.” Streetwise snickered as he leant against Vortex.

“NO Prime, it is thee who would doom all of Cybertron.” Megatron said, over-riding the two gestalts, “I am Cybertron's true saviour. Join with me, and this war will be over as we make sweet love to each other.”

“Oh, Primus.” Somebody muttered as Orion pretended to swoon, using an unsuspecting Prowl as a handhold.

“Oh, Megatron, would that this be true. That our love could truly end this war?” He replied, one hand over his spark.

“Truly I doth believe it could be so, come, let us leave this place. Together we will save Cybertron.” The final straw came as Megatron stepped forward and swept Orion up into his arms.

Beside Maestro the camera wobbled as Obscura was unable to contain his laughter any longer. “Cut.” He finally said and the camera wasted no time in unfolding into a bipedal heap of snickering metal. “Try not to delete that, it's going in the outtake reel.” The Director said as he shook his helm. Sometimes it was easier to just go with the flow.


	2. Chapter 2

“Clamps?” They are handed over as Hoist and Ratchet bend over the mech lying motionless on the berth. “We need to stop the energon leaks.”

The mech on the berth twitches.

Ratchet glares.

Hoist huffs.

The mech's vents hitch in a futile attempt to stop his giggles.

“Cut.”

The black and white form on the berth gives in to his laughter and Hoist and Ratchet both stand back, letting him go until he manages to get himself under control.

“You finished?” Hoist asks as he steps back up, resetting the scene.

“Yup.”

“Okay, take fourteen.” One of the mechs calls out. “Cameras rolling and action.”

“Clamps?” They are handed over as Hoist and Ratchet bend over the mech lying motionless on the berth. “We need to stop the energon leaks.”

The mech on the berth quivers, armour shaking.

Ratchet looks less than impressed as he wallops the mech with his wrench. The muttered, “that would be more satisfying if this thing was metal instead of rubber,” only serving to send the mech back into hysterical chuckles.

“Oh yeah, like that Docbot.” Prowl finally gets out as he wriggles on the berth and Hoist gives in to the temptation to introduce his hand to his own faceplates.

And this was why he and Ratchet shuddered whenever they had medbay scenes with Prowl as the patient.


	3. Chapter 3

“And cut.” As if the words are a signal the room erupts into laughter.

“Who the frag wrote this? I'm gonna boot em so far into the core they won't be able to climb back out.” More laughter echoes around as the crew stare at the disgruntled mech wound up in steel cables. Steel cables padded out with insulating material and painted neon green in a very good approximation of some of the creatures on display in the organic aquariums.

“And here we thought you were enjoying yourself.” Blue optics glare around at the crew mechs, although Hound can't help the quirk of his mouth at his own predicament.

“Well, now. We get boring scenes and you get this?” Ravage sounds miffed as he slides around the door frame, Steeljaw following a beat behind.

Hound sighs, the thin planetary atmosphere gusting out of his vents as he crosses his arms as best he can with tentacles wrapped around both of them.

“Perhaps we should call Trailbreaker in, I'm sure you'd have fun then.” Steeljaw's comment earns him a datapad to the helm from Maestro, although to be fair the quadruped actor did anticipate the response and the flying missile sailed harmlessly over his helm.

“Don't even think about it.” The director warns at the sudden glow in Hounds optics. “There will be no fragging on my set!”


	4. Chapter 4

“So, anyway, here I am, making my way between the detailing rooms to Soundstage B for my first scene of the day with Megs and Star when I hear these strange noises.”

The group of mechs around the table lean closer. Optics bright behind coloured filters as they wait for the storyteller to continue.

“Of course, curious slagger that I am, I just had to go and find out what it was. Now, I've only got a breem or so and I think, just poke my helm in, see what's going on and then back out.” He sat back, a wry smile crossing his faceplates. “Well, that was the plan. Then I saw, well, slag near froze my processor up in a loop.”

“What?” Dead End prompted after a moment and Bluestreak elbowed him.

“What did I find? Well, here I am, frozen in the doorway, optics locked on the spectacle as I realise I've just found the answer to who Ratchet's been fragging.”

Sunstreaker whistles appreciatively. There's probably not a mech on set who doesn't have credits resting on that, be they actors or crew. “Well, going to let us in on the secret?”

“So, I'm frozen in place and Scrapper looks up and comms me to close the door when I leave.”

“When you leave?”

“Scrapper?”

“Awww slag, I guessed Hook.”

Soundwave grins at the overlap of voices. “Yes, _when_ I leave, as in, feel free to stay and watch. Suffice it to say I was late for the scene I was meant to be filming. And don't worry, Hook was right too.” The grin changes into a smug smirk. “In fact, if you picked any of the gestalt you'd have been correct.”

“I didn't need that image.” Fix-it says as Soundwave raises his cube in a toast.

“You didn't need that image?” First Aid says rather incredulously “You're a guest star, I have to be with him for like, half of my scenes. I'll never be able to look him in the optics again!”


	5. Chapter 5

Maestro resets his optics.

When that fails he queries his systems just to be sure they are operating correctly.

When the query is returned saying that no malfunction has been found he has to assume that he is indeed seeing what his processor had first seen. No matter how improbable.

One of his actors is indeed clinging to a pole half way up the set scaffolding and apparently refusing to come down. “Do I want to know?” He asks as he watches Megatron hovering just outside of the lattice of bars attempting to coax him down.

“He's stuck.” Blaster says as he stares up at the scaffolding with a vaguely amused look. “Ravage challenged him to get up to the top.”

Maestro nods. “I see.” He had learnt long ago to just nod and accept when things like this happen.

“We're waiting for Skywarp to arrive.” Soundwave adds as he stomps over, Ravage dangling by his collar fairing from his fist.

“I see.” Maestro repeats as Megatron swears, his flight wobbling for a moment as he moves to hover a little further away while shaking his hand.

Up on the scaffolding Steeljaw returns his claws to the metal bar he is clinging to and hisses.

* * *

Maestro ponders whether he has hired sparklings or a circus, or possibly both, as he stares up at the ceiling of Set four. There isn't a day which goes by without some incident or other. Today it is his detailing crew who are begging for his help.

Thus bringing him back to his contemplation of the tiles making up the roof on this particular set, all while trying to ignore the feel of the organic slag seeping under his light armour.

“You okay there Boss?” Several helms invade his view of the ceiling.

“Ouch.” Maestro finally says as his processor catches up with his sensors. He takes the offered hand to sit up, grimacing at the feeling of the muck sliding through his internals. Why would any of them voluntarily _play_ in this stuff? “Detailing are about to glitch themselves into stasis about this.” He points out as he gingerly puts a hand down, ignoring the feeling of more mud oozing under his plating as he pushes himself to his feet. “You're not even meant to be in this scene.”

No, Hound and Bluestreak would be having that joy as they are ambushed while on patrol by Wild Rider, Dead End and Drag Strip.

Sunstreaker shrugs, mud flicking off his chassis and splattering on the gathered mechs. “But this is fun.”

Maestro almost slaps his palm over his optics before remembering it is covered in organic sludge. “Just go clean up so they don't glitch. Please.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed a very famous line for this one. I hope you all get it before Perceptor does.

“A cursory elavation, oh frag.”

Prowl's sensor panels twitch slightly as the cameramechs move back around the briefing table to reset the scene.

* * *

“A cursory evalidation of, slag it.”

Prowl snickers and Orion's shoulders shiver tellingly.

* * *

“A cursory **evaluation** of Deceptive capable... who wrote this?”

This time Orion's shoulders are definitely shuddering and the blast mask can't hide his amusement.

* * *

“A cursory evaluation of Decepticon capers indicates a... what did I say wrong this time?”

He trails off as Ratchet's helm hits the table and Wheeljack's helm indicators flash through a kaleidoscope of colours.

* * *

“A cursory evaluation of Decepticon capabilities indicates a deficient tactical distinct... Oh for Primus' sake!"

Jazz finally disappears underneath the briefing room table, unable to keep a straight face any longer.

* * *

“A cursory evaluation of Decepticon capabilities indicates a distinct tactical deficiency.”

The silence stretches as they all realise there was nothing wrong. “Ah, who's got the next line?” Jazz asks.

At the front of the briefing room Perceptor collapses into a chair and props his helm up in his hands. “I hate you all.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Hi Boss.” Maestro nods absently as he makes his way to his office to review the scenes they will be filming today.

“Morning Boss.”

“Morning.” He replies, something nagging at his processor, but the mech is already walking away.

“Ready for today?”

“Aren't I always?” Maestro replies as he enters his office. The niggling feeling suddenly throws up several bright neon flags in the front of his processor and he backs up but the mech has already turned the corner and is out of sight. Primus. He clearly needs to get his processor defragged if he's imagining seeing the same mech several times in one morning.

He downloads the files from his terminal that the script writers have forwarded to him onto a pad. Flicking it on he glances quickly at the set number before turning it off and heading that way. He can read the rest once he's in his comfy directors chair since he's here early.

“Lo' Boss” Wheeljack says as he perches on the edge of Maestro's chair.

“I swear I've seen you about five times this morning already. Are you stalking me?” Maestro asks as he boots his pad back up so he can read it.

“Really?”

“You have?”

“How strange.”

“Only five of us?”

Meastro warily looks up from his pad at the voices. Identical except for the faint buzz of a vocal module used to change the tone and accent of voices. No. He really didn't want to look up. He stares at the veritable army of Wheeljack's surrounding him, a sea of helm indicators flashing merrily in a huge range of colours. What. The. Slag? “Wheeljack?”

“Yes.” A multitude of voices reply. That... wasn't helpful. At all.

Laughter at his shoulder, in a different distinctly-not-a-Wheeljack tone, makes him twist around to find Ratchet leaning casually against the back of his chair. “You've not looked at the scene notes for today have you?”

Almost against his will Maestro's optics drop to the forgotten pad in his lap and the information helpfully displayed at the top.

_**Set 2. Scene 1**  
The Ark. Wheeljack's lab.  
Experimental failure leads to multiple Wheeljack's on the Ark._

Oh.

_Oh Slag._


	8. Chapter 8

“Hey. Hey!” Awww come on mechs.” Maestro frowns at the whining, making his way towards the commotion. “Mechs, this isn't funny!” The owner of the voice continues.

A mixed group of his actors and crew apparently think otherwise as they stand around snickering at the yelling.

“Slaggers, the lot of you!” Maestro dares to poke his helm around the edge of set seven, the semi-permanent violet painted interior rooms of the Nemesis.

“Boss! Help?” The plaintive query draws his attention to the area set up as the Decepticon brig and the mech looking pitifully at him from the other side of the red painted bars. Normally cerulean optics stare hopefully at him from behind scarlet filters.

“You appear to have had a mutiny.” Maestro helpfully points out with a grin.

In his cell Megatron growls, throwing his hands up in resignation.


End file.
